Once Sentenced to Be Shot

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 940, 5 April 1930, Page 18

Once Sentenced to Be Shot

Unruly Man Soothed . . . Violent Scene at Old Bailey . . . Made Living at Crown and Anchor . . . ■ MEN the case of Arthur Talbot was called at the Old Bailey recently there was no immediate response. Instead, there came from the cells below the sound of violent scuffling, and to the surprise of the Court there suddenly lunged into the dock the burly figure of a man held in the tight grip of three muscular warders of his own build. Panting and perspiring with his exertions, the mail presented a dishevelled appearance, with his jacket and waistcoat torn back from his spacious shoulders and he stood like a tiger at bay. “Wouldn’t you like to sit down?” asked the Recorder, Sir Ernest Wild, K.C., in a gentle, inviting tone of voice. “Well, I’d prefer to have this re- : straint removed from me,” replied I Talbot. | The Recorder remarked that no re- ; straint would be placed on the man unless it was necessary, and at that the warders released their iron grasp and prisoner sank limply on to a chair. Talbot was found guilty of receiving a wallet and a railway pass ticket, and then a detective revealed prisoner’s astonishing record. Convictions against him dated back to 1908. He had served the country during the war, but, remarked the officer, “he had a shocking Army character.” He was court-martialled on three occasions, on one of which he was sentenced to death for desertion. The sentence was commuted to one of ten

years’ pfenal servitude. On practically every occasion on which he had been arrested Talbot resorted to a considerable amount of violence. He tore liis clothes, and the suit he was wearing was the third supplied to him since his recent arrest. Dr. Brisby, of Brixton Prison, stated that Talbot w r as not Insane, but he seemed to be cheerfully giving as much trouble as he could. “He does not seem to be a bad sort of fellow,” commented the Recorder. Talbot: It is not for ms to blow my own trumpet, but' when you look iu the looking-glass you see your worst enemy. Pie informed the Recorder that while serving during the war in 1916 he was for three and a-half months all over France “getting a living by running a crown and anchor board from one estaminet to another,” and he was sentenced to death. Recorder: You were not sentenced to death for crown and anchor? No, I went away to a little place for a holiday. Recorder: And they were unkind enough to call it desertion? Yes, and when my sentence was commuted th.e colouel and officers came and shook hands with me. Will Crooks got me out of Parkhurst. He was our neighbour. When Talbot asked for leniency, the Recorder asked, “What do you call leniency? I suppose you have never been asked to sentence yourself? What do you consider fair?” “Well,” replied Talbot, amid loud laughter, “to get away with it altogether.” The Recorder postponed the case to the next Sessions, and stated that the court missionary would have a chat with Talbot. “If you do not do as he advises,” concluded Sir Ernest, “you will get it in the neck.”